


miles high, in the deep

by reapersadvocate



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Depression, M/M, Multi, The lot, break ups, implied smut? - Freeform, in which dave and karkat are gays in denial, make ups, maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapersadvocate/pseuds/reapersadvocate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re sitting across the table from your ex-boyfriend of six years, and your eyes flit between your plate, the exit, and your best friend. You’re also wondering how the fuck you got yourself into this mess.</p><p>UPDATES: whenever :~)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oh my fuckign god

You’re sitting across the table from your ex-boyfriend of six years, and your eyes flit between your plate, the exit, and your best friend. You’re also wondering how the _fuck_ you got yourself into this mess.

 

Rewind about ten years or so.

 

Dave Strider was that kid in high school that you were literally within seconds of murdering. Seeing his face alone (well, half of it. the other half was covered by those tacky-ass sunglasses) would make your blood boil. He jogged you when writing, threatened to sneeze on your food (more than once!) and had this weird habit of talking to you only when you really needed to get work done. It took some time, but eventually, you realised that these were all his various attempts of making friends, in some way shape or form, and that he wasn't trying (all the time, at least) to be a dick. God knows why the hell he wanted to be friends with your bitter, scrawny ass, but hey-ho. You weren't exactly a pleasant person in 10th grade, and you were convinced you were the edgiest person on the god damn planet, so anyone to add to your ever shrinking list of friends was always a blessing. Eventually, Dave Strider became a regular part of your life, joining your band of misfits, as well as introducing some of his own friends to you.

 

Inevitably, people began sectioning themselves off within your unusually large nerd-herd; Kanaya with Rose, John with Roxy, Aradia and Sollux, Gamzee tagging along with Jade and Tavros, whilst Eridan spent an unusual amount of time with Vriska and Terezi. It was purely out of chance that you and Dave sooner or later became inseparable. He came round your house a lot, sleeping over close to three times a week, while you had never stepped foot in his apartment.

 

It wasn't long before he opened up to you about his family- and yeah, at first, his brother sounded pretty cool. It was only really the way his smile seemed a little too false when he spoke about his guardian, that really started you asking questions, and in the end you were sort of glad you got nosy as hell. You came to the conclusion that one day, you would get hella buff, and kick the shit out of Bro Strider, if it kept your best friend safe.

 

Ha, best friend. Was that really the way to describe him?

 

It felt like the title couldn't encapsulate what you were to each other. It was a bond that you couldn't imagine sharing with anyone but him after all this time. To put it in extremely sappy words- he was your everything. You spent every summer joint at the hip, causing havoc side by side. He taught you to relax a little, make your high school day’s count, and you taught him how to motivate himself to do even the most mundane of things, take every day as it comes, and told him that it was okay to be selfish once in a while. He smiled more around you, wore his shades less, loosened up a little. You were good for each other. Still you didn't quite understand why when he smiled, you would feel your heart beat that little bit faster; or why his laugh sounded like music to you, or why him being around made you feel like you were walking on air.

 

In 11th grade, he was the one to talk to you first about questioning his sexuality, and then you returned his words.

 

In 12th grade, you found out you'd gotten into the same college. He took a course in media and film studies, and you in literature.

 

You remember that first week, as clear as anything: moving in on campus, getting your timetable, still not shifting from Dave's side. You remember the way stress bled from his body when you helped him move out of his shared apartment with Bro. You decided that from then on, Dave would go home with you for the holidays, rather than going back to that place.

You remembered the first time you saw him properly panic. Dave was freaking out about coursework and deadlines and exams, pacing and pacing and pacing (and it was barely past Christmas) so you talked him down, like you usually did, coaxed him onto his bed to sit, and hugged him to your chest. Worry flooded those eyes you loved so much. He was so afraid of fucking up. The fact that you had the exact same fear, you’d kept to yourself.

 

"What if I can't cope?", he'd asked you.

 

"You always do", you assured him.

 

He did, of course, do fine. And so did you, hooray! On results day at the end of your first year of college, Dave kisses you in the spur of the moment, and you see his eyes widen even behind his shades. You kiss him again before he stuttered out some bullshit apology, because fuck, you've been wanting to do that since high school.

 

You spend the rest of your two college years, hand in hand, supporting each other no matter what, until the end of your university experience, and moved in together immediately after. He was your best friend, worst enemy, a complete asshole, and the most important person in your life, all rolled up into one (incredibly hot) person. You had sappy double dates with Kanaya and Rose, stayed up late watching Judge Judy re-runs, and lived like your age matched your shoe-size, rather than acting like you were in your twenties.

 

Every kiss with Dave felt like the first, and every time he held your hand, you felt like you were in 10th grade again. Every time he pressed his lips to that spot under your jaw, you’d still shudder like it was the first time. Everything with him was always new, and exciting, and wonderful. He made you feel serenity for the first time in your stressful ass life, and was always there when you wanted to cry until your voice was hoarse. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone but him. But, as always, life had to smack you round the head someday, and things got gradually more and more difficult.

 

Six years into a relationship, you'd be able to understand that things were hardly happy families constantly anymore.

 

Way past the honeymoon phase, miles into reality: the nitty-gritty of the dating world. But, you hardly expected it to be like THIS. You and Dave argued too much, whether it was over something as small as who's turn it was to do the dishes, to how on earth you were going to keep up with the rent with you combined shitty salaries. No, you weren't exactly the most well off people in the world, but that didn't matter when you first got together all that time ago, so why should it matter now? Sure, you had your good times, and when things were good: they were great, but those times were getting rarer. But even then, you didn't even see it possible to doubt your feelings for him. Things were hard, as you'd expect them to be, sometimes, but they'd get better like they always did, right?

 

Wrong. You barely saw him anymore- which is difficult to sort of understand when you think about it. Dave worked nights, making his part time hobby of DJing into a career whilst he learned that making a million dollar grossing movie in your garage was close to impossible. He'd come back in the early hours of the morning a few hours before you'd have to set off for work. He'd come home tired, you'd come home tired 12 hours later, and so you just stopped having time for each other. You were both so busy trying to make ends meet, that you barely had time to catch up.

 

As anyone knows, tiredness leads to crankiness, and crankiness leads to arguments. So, you argued. About everything. For months. From what you saw of each other, you weren't very happy. You blamed yourself, as usual. Everything was tense and difficult and blue. Dave wore his shades more, spent more time on his music and those god damn comics, and you picked up extra weekend shifts at work just to fill time and get out of the apartment.

 

But it was Dave who first suggested the break. Now, this would've been a completely credible suggestion (after all, you were both just surviving rather than living these days, it was difficult to keep that up whilst keeping a healthy relationship, and you didn't want to end up hating each other in the end, because of all the arguments), but this led to the largest argument you ever had with Dave (again, exhaustion, crankiness), and you broke up entirely. Maybe you'd lost your spark? Maybe you were better off as friends?

 

_**Maybe things weren't how they used to be.** _

 

You moved out within a matter of days, feeling less claustrophobic, but more empty with each section of your stuff you shifted into Gamzee’s hotboxed apartment. It was temporary, of course. The last thing you needed to think was that you’d burdened both Dave AND Gamzee in a matter of months.

 

It wasn't long before you had heard Dave's good news from Rose, two or three weeks after the break up at best. Spotted online, blah blah blah, once in a life time opportunity, blah blah blah, going to Hollywood, blah blah blah. You didn't know much past that, and weren't sure you wanted to. You were happy Dave was chasing his dreams, but couldn’t help feel absolutely distraught at the fact that you weren't there with him for support. You soon found out (because everybody was fucking talking about it) that Dave’s shitty Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comics had been found online, and some rich scumbag wanted to fund him to direct it into a movie. Good god, what has the cinematic world come to?

 

Rose and Kanaya threw a farewell party of sorts, the night before Dave was due to catch his flight to LA. You stuck to the corners of rooms, excusing yourself quietly when you felt like there were too many people around you. You didn’t want to be there. Everything was Dave this, and Dave that. It’s like some cosmic asshole wanted to rub it in your face that you’d managed to push away the one good thing in your life. Dave was moving on to bigger and better things, which obviously did not have you in the picture. You had a feeling Dave tried to talk to you once or twice that night, but you really were not in the mood to cry in front of him. You’d done enough of that alone, the last thing you’d needed was for other people to watch this time. He texts you after you leave the party early.

 

TG: wish me luck

CG: GOOD LUCK.

TG: see you around kat

 

The next day, he was gone, your old shared apartment sold on.  

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The first month was the hardest. 

 

You kept expecting to wake up with Dave's stupid spider limbs tangled with yours, and, at first, it was extremely difficult to remember that he wouldn't be there anymore. Sometimes, you would wake up so bleary eyed in the morning that you'd still make breakfast for two, or sometimes subconsciously pick up a pack of chilli Doritos at the store. You spent a lot of time crying, and eating too much and sleeping too little, and not eating enough and sleeping too much. Everything was just fucking horrible, and you're not going to lie and say that you had completely not expected to feel this shit. You  _knew_ you'd feel this horrible after. After all, you can't get over almost six years of a relationship in less than a month. Either way, knowing that it would hurt didn't soften any blows, and you had to keep on reminding yourself about how unbearably tense the end of your relationship was. It didn't help much. You'd still cry if you found one of Dave's old shirts in your pile of clothes, and feel a pang of pain in your chest every time you so much as thought about what things were like when you first started out. 

 

The absolute worst thing was when things started popping up on television. News of Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson signing a contract or whatever, to be part of some indie movie directed by a guy no one had heard of before. You almost couldn't believe that Dave had somehow managed to rope in two actors who were that well known into an abomination like Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. You avoided magazines and shitty TV interviews for as long as you could as leaked images of the film set leaked into the media. 

 

Three months since Dave's leave, and the trailer for his shitty movie is already out. You don’t understand how anyone could really make a movie that fast, but considering the trailer looked like it was made in Microsoft PowerPoint, you can’t really say you're surprised. What you are surprised about, however, is the fact that fucking _Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson are in it._ The movie premieres in three months’ time. You bet he made the trailer before he even finished the damn movie. One week later, the trailer has a whopping 8 million hits on YouTube (not that you keep checking), and advertising is literally everywhere online. Critics who have had a sneak peek at the movie already have described it as _“philosophically ground-breaking”_ and _“the greatest dark humour to hit cinema screens”_. You hope they’re being sarcastic- you’ve read Dave’s comics, they’re all pretty stupid (but you laughed at the time, didn’t you?), and you dread to think what sort of money went into making this abomination.

 

After that, things got a little easier. Sure, news of Dave’s movie was difficult to ignore online, but you barely saw anything on face to face regarding it, if you knew where to not look. You figure it’d be a lot more difficult to get over him if he were still in the state. However, you found it hurt to think about Dave’s success, and couldn’t help but think it was ironic that when you finally split, he gets successful.

 

**_Maybe you were holding him back._ **

****

You spend a lot more time with Kanaya, and whilst you think you’re starting to bug her, she insists that you aren’t. You don’t believe her. Both you and she go through and alarming amount of coffee, it’s quite disturbing. You think of all the Brazilian coffee bean farmers you’ve made millionaires, and feel very proud of yourself. Kanaya has this weird psychic ability to tell when one day is worse than another, and always pressures explanations out of you that you don’t feel like giving. You never tell her that you feel better for explaining afterwards- that’d just make her smug.

 

Aradia and Sollux (mainly Aradia) make a point of getting everyone psyched to see Dave’s movie next month, planning on seeing it on the night it comes out. You know that the theatre will be packed and the food will be over-priced, and that you’ll probably cry at some point during the evening, but fuck it. You tell her you’ll go, just because they are.

 

You’re sitting in Starbucks with Kanaya, when you ask her for the fiftieth time that day why she’s been so quiet.

 

“Are you going to stare out that window for the next hour, or do I have to put you in one of those torture chairs where they strap you down and hold your eyelids open with matchsticks?”

 

No response. She gives you one of those thoughtful looks, quirking a brow as she sips from her tea.

 

“Kanaya, just say what you’re going to say before I literally stand up and piss all over the god damn tabl-“

 

“Dave’s back for the week”, she cuts your sentence short, and you chew your tongue in your mouth. To be honest, you’re doing a pretty swell job at looking like you don’t want to run into traffic right now, but on the inside, a three second loop of you screaming at the top of your lungs is playing on repeat in your head. You break eye contact, and sip your latte, trying not to puke when it suddenly seems too sweet.

 

“..So what?”

 

“ _So,_ he’s coming down to ours for dinner the night he gets back. We want you there, Rose and I. _Dave_ wants you there.”

 

You’re pretty sure you’re having heart palpitations. You want to back out, say no, and hibernate in Gamzee’s shed until Dave leaves back for LA again, but you sure as hell know that Kanaya would never let that happen. This is bad, this is really bad. Because **_this,_** Karkat Vantas, is how you end up across the table from your ex-boyfriend at your best friends house a week later. And maybe, just maybe-

 

**_Maybe you miss him._ **


	2. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows she shouldn't have forced you here. It’s too soon, too soon.
> 
> But if not now… when?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive done it again. ive started another fic before properly ending one

Dave was sort of odd looking when he first joined your high school, all those years ago. He was scrawny as fuck, but had a strange amount of muscle, like a five year old had packed play-do onto a bean pole. It looked all wrong on him. Little did you now, when you first met him anyway, that it was from all of the strifing. You remember him having this weird Troy-Bolton bowl cut that didn’t suit him at all, dirty blonde hair always falling in front of those god damn sunglasses, which were absolutely huge on his face at the time. You think the reason why you first started acknowledging him was because of his confidence, more than anything. Sure, he looked odd as hell; no emotion on what little of his face his glasses allowed him to show, baggy clothes, weird hairstyle, but he had such an air of control about him. You started to think you could pull it off too.

 

Thank god, by the time you got to half way through 11th grade, a lot had changed about his appearance, and that’s definitely when you started to notice things about him that you never would in the 9th grade, all that time ago. His jaw had become more defined, for a start, widening his face and actually making him look like he’d actually eaten in the past three years. He got a haircut (thanks to you dragging him to Kanaya’s so she could fix the fuck up sitting on top of his head), and now sported an undercut, showing the darker roots of his hair all around his head. The hair on top off his head was shorter, and fell just above his dark eyebrows, and his shades looked a lot smaller sitting on his nose than they used to be. His shoulders got wider over that summer, leaving his narrow hips in the dust as he grew outwards, obvious muscle stretching properly over his shoulders and torso.

 

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the time, when you went back to school in September, as he was pulling girls left right and centre. But you couldn’t quite tell if you were jealous of Dave, or the girls he was with.

 

Yes, of course he had girlfriends, but the relationships never lasted that long, and Dave never seemed _that_ interested. You, on the other hand, were silently (and strangely) relieved of this fact.

 

By the time you got to college, Dave was down-right _gorgeous,_ and you had no clue what to do with yourself at the same time. You wonder how proud you would’ve felt of yourself had you known that he was checking you out from behind his shades for the entirety of 12th grade, and your freshman year in college. It took him a long time to convince you that he thought you were the hottest thing that walked the god damn earth. You don’t think you ever quite fully believed him anyway.

 

You, Karkat Vantas, are down right _average_. You stood a couple of inches shorter than Dave, him being 6’1”, and you being 5’11”. You have brown, stupidly messy hair, thick eyebrows, grey eyes, and according to Dave, “an ass that won’t quit”. You’re an unfortunate sufferer of resting bitch face, and you’re pasty as fuck. Dave and Rose, on the other hand, were tan as hell, skin the colour of caramel, due to Rose’s mum, Dave’s aunt, being from Mexico. Also, Dave was bilingual. Geez, if you didn’t think he was attractive before.

 

 

Merely entering the room was enough to give you a near heart attack, but you’re so glad you see Aradia and Sollux there when you come in, and silently thank the gods that maybe, just maybe, you can talk to Sollux long enough about anything under the sun, just so you feel a little more comfortable. You don’t see Dave straight away when you enter the living room, but you can hear him talking to Rose and Kanaya in the kitchen from the couch you’re sat on in the living room. You try to swallow the lump in your throat. Aradia is beside you, hand on your shoulder, but not making eye contact. You’re glad she knows, but knows not to make a big deal out of this either. You speak to them for a while, and they successfully lighten your mood slightly before Rose and Kanaya walk from the kitchen door to the dining table, carrying hot plates of god-knows-what, soon followed by one mister Dave Strider. You all get up and huddle round the table like hungry school children from Oliver Twist, before taking your seats. There are three seats on each side; Aradia sits between you and Sollux, and Rose sits between Dave and Kanaya, you and Dave seated on opposite ends of the table. You’re just glad you don’t have to sit face to face.

 

You don’t want to be here. But more than anything, you wish Dave wasn’t here instead. Six fucking months you spend trying to get over his stupid ass, and you can’t help but feel like he’s only come back to rub it in your face that he’s successful _without you._

It hurts, it hurts seeing him here because you’d spent half a fucking year learning not to crave the feeling of his hand in yours anymore, the feel of his lips anywhere on you, the sensation of his hands on your hips, the back of your neck, your shoulders; trying to push old habits out of your head and start fresh. To teach yourself that you’re not dependent, and you’re sure as hell not dependent on him anymore. You’d spent _half of a fucking year_ trying to not breakdown any time someone brought him up, to convince yourself that this was for the best, to prove that this was how it was supposed to be.

 

…If it was supposed to be this way, why did it hurt so much letting go? You tell yourself it was your fault, because it was, because you’re too stubborn to apologise, because you pushed away the most beautiful thing in your life when things got a little difficult. You tell yourself you’re pathetic. No wonder you could hardly think about him without crying after he left- you knew you fucked up, and oh, how it hurt you. Pain crawls up your limbs as you sit there, riding on a train of thought that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

 

Kanaya stops it instead, her foot gently nudging your leg under the table. You gives a reassuring look, but don’t fail to notice the regret in her eyes. She knows she shouldn't have forced you here. It’s too soon, too soon.

 

But if not now… when?

 

You’re not surprised that he’s wearing his shades. Had it been six months ago, of course, people around the table would’ve pointed it out, but you know him. You know he’s not comfortable about this one bit, and his shades are like a translucent safety blanket stapled to his god damn face. You, however, have literally nothing to hide behind. You try not to look at him too long.

 

Of course, you don’t need to look long at all to notice that he looks different. He’s wearing a deep red suit, black shirt, and a black bow-tie, which hangs undone around his neck. You can tell he’s tired, slouching slightly whilst trying to keep up with the table-talk. You don’t think he’s so much as looked at you yet. There’s slight stubble on his chin, his hair slightly messy and sleeves pulled to his elbows. You’re not going to deny that he’s still attractive, you’re not stupid. You know more than six years of thinking he’s gorgeous isn't going to drain itself from your mind any time soon, but it isn't that which tugs at your heart when you steal a glance. It’s the fact that you've been sitting and eating for an hour now, and he hasn't smiled _once_.

 

Well, he has. But not genuinely.

 

You all talk about Dave’s movie, and Sollux keeps taking the piss out of it, which manages to make a few people laugh, even Dave, if only a little. The mood lightens ever so slightly. The only real input you have is asking Dave how the hell he manage to pull Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller into all of this. He replies with a surprisingly in-depth anecdote regarding a very lucky meet up between his agent (he has an agent?) and the two actors in a bar.

 

Rose now comes to the stunning conclusion that drinking will solve all tension around the table (and yes, it is due to you and Dave, and you can’t help but feel downright horrible about it), and so breaks away to the kitchen momentarily before returning with two bottles of prosecco and some Bicardi. When you were all in college, and younger, and bored, you drank to get shit-faced and dance for six hours straight. Nowadays, you all just drink because there’s nothing better to do, and it seems to be an automatic reaction for some people you know.

 

Rose is correct in her methods either way, as you all migrate back to the living room and settle down so you don’t puke after eating so much. Aradia sits with you, not only to make sure that you don’t drink yourself into oblivion within six feet of your ex-boyfriend, but also to keep you company whilst Sollux and Dave have an oddly friendly catch up in the corner. Whatever. It’s not like you want to talk to him (you do).

 

Even if you did talk to him, what would you say?

 

Hey Dave, sorry to ruin your evening, but could you please get your ass back to LA before I literally cry on your new suit? It was odd. You wanted him gone, but at the same time, you want him back in your life, back in your arms, back in your heart. You’ve come so fucking far. He’s sitting three fucking feet away, for fuck’s sake!

 

You’re pulled from your tipsy internal ramblings when an ad on the TV catches your eye. Of course, it’s the trailer for Dave’s new movie that you've already watched on-line. Twice. Alright, three times. It looked decent.

 

“When’s the premier?”, Aradia asks from beside you, your head rested on her shoulder, whilst she petted through your hair.

 

“Saturday, actually”, Dave responds, voice coming from the reclining armchair in the corner of the room.

 

“Geez, this Saturday?”

 

“Yeah, man. I catch my flight to LA on Friday morning.”

 

Fuck- this Saturday? He only got here yesterday, and it’s only Sunday.

 

“I have busy ass schedule. You wouldn’t believe the half of it.”

 

So, he tells you all about his busy ass life, whilst you mull over the fact that he’s only here for the next four full days before he’s gone again. Out of your life. Just like _that._ You don’t exactly know what you’d want from him if he stayed. Just. You didn’t even have a proper goodbye, and you hardly ended on a good note when you broke up. Perhaps all you want is for you two to just be chill, at least.

 

Speaking of which, it’s a Sunday, meaning you have work tomorrow. You sit up properly with a groan, before standing.

 

“Shit, guys. This is where I head off. Work tomorrow.”

 

Dave, who has his shades off now, almost looks sad to see you go, for a moment. Kanaya stands too.

 

“I’ll drop you home. I can’t let you walk back this late.”

 

As you she exits the room ahead of you to grab her car keys, you stay to wave goodbye to everyone. Everyone says their goodbyes, and even Dave gives you a little wave. You’re not sure if it’s the dim lighting, the alcohol in your system, or the fact that you’re just not paying attention well, but you think he smiles at you a little. You smile a little in return.

 

You pretend to be asleep for the entire car journey home, purely to avoid her talking to you about Dave coming back (and leaving in five days, god damn it), but you know you can’t avoid her forever. She ‘wakes you up’, when she’s parked outside of your house, and you get out with a quiet word of thanks. You’re in your room before you even register getting past your front door. God, you’re tired. You throw yourself onto your bed, asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, before you can even read the text messages coming in on your phone.

 

TG: sgood to see you again

TG: although we didnt really get to catch up

TG: i mean if you dont wanna catch up thats your call man

TG: i mean

TG: your choice and all

TG: but if you want to meet up for coffee or something

TG: then id totally be up for it

TG: but yeah

TG: call me maybe

TG: its hard to look right at you, baby

TG: fuck, sorry, spur of the moment

TG: but yeah, call me if you want, kat

 


	3. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're not jealous, you're not jealous, you're not jealous.

Yeah, it's been six months since Dave had left the state (and subsequently returned), but you were still working the same shitty-ass job that you were back then. God knew why you were putting yourself through this shit. It was probably because this was the only fucking thing you knew how to do remotely well. Alas, you, Karkat Vantas, have the awesome responsibility of waiting tables, nine to five, in this shit-hole bar.

 

Ironically, you don't get many drink breaks.

 

You wondered why you couldn't be one of the 12% of literature college graduates who could walk into a job in publishing or just write a god damn book, and become filthy stinking rich within the matter of one year. You don't even have time to write much in your spare time anymore, but you're happy to say that you keep up with your reading. You never finish a book without picking up a new one first, stack and stacks of dog-eared pages folded open on your beside table, or bed, or coffee table (Gamzee uses them as fucking  _footrests_ ), and you read well into the night. Reading was a good distraction from, well, _everything._ It put you in an entirely different world, and you stepped into shoes that you could only dream of filling. The more you read over the past six months, the less you thought about Dave, so it was a win-win situation.

 

However, now that he was here rather than a few states away, it was a little harder to not think about him, although work pulls you from your thoughts somehow. You don’t look at your phone until you get home at around half past five, and when you do, you feel your stomach clench uncomfortably.

 

Why the hell is he talking to you? What the fuck have you done to deserve this? Dave literally has _days_ left in Texas, and he’s texting your stupid ass?

 

You’re not even sure if you want to see him again.

 

It was awkward enough the first time, even with other people around. God knows what it’d be like with just the pair of you. Not to mention the fact that you’d prefer him to leave for LA tomorrow, rather than him leaving in three days’ time. It was hard to stomach the fact that he was constantly within a five mile radius of your home, and now he wants to catch up? What the fuck. No, you’ve spend too much time trying not to miss him. The last thing you need is to go and see him, only to feel that ache in your chest that you feel whenever you heard his favourite song, or found his smell in some of your clothes. You were fucking sick of feeling like that.

 

But at the same time, you never ended on a good note with Dave. You weren’t there when Dirk, Rose and Roxy dropped him off at the airport on his last day- hell, you hadn’t spoken a word to each other for a good few weeks before he left.

 

Theoretically, if you did see him, what would you even say?

 

You bite your lip as you stare down at your phone screen, thumbs hovering over the keyboard in anticipation for any coherent thought to pop into your head. It was just coffee, right? Coffee couldn’t hurt. After all, he was probably only going to make small talk with you for like an hour, tops. Maybe you’d be okay, and agree to be friends. You start to type, and are surprised to see how quickly he responds. You’re glad that you come across as being more casual than you feel, talking to him properly for the first time in over half a year.

 

**CG: SORRY, I ONLY JUST CHECKED MY PHONE.**

**CG: COFFEE SOUNDS GOOD, ACTUALLY. BUT, I’M NOT REALLY FREE ALL WEEK, BECAUSE OF WORK?**

**CG: I MEAN, I’M FREE RIGHT NOW, I SUPPOSE. IF YOU’RE NOT TOO BUSY, MR. HOTSHOT DIRECTOR.**

**CG: YOU COULD HAVE A FREAKY DINNER DATE WITH TIM BURTON OR SOMETHING, FOR ALL I KNOW.**

**TG: haha**

**TG: i wish, dude**

**TG: but yeah im free right now**

**TG: it’s a little late for coffee i guess but if you wanna grab a drink or something, id love to**

**CG: SURE. I COULD DO WITH SOMETHING STRONGER.**

**CG: AS LONG AS WE’RE NOT GOING TO THE METEOR, FOR FUCKS SAKE. I JUST GOT OFF SHIFT.**

_The Meteor_ was the name of the bar you worked at, and had been doing do for three years now. Terezi helped you get a job there when your writing dream fell flat on its face. It didn’t pay well, but at least you had friends working with you. The guy who ran it (everyone called him the Mayor. God knows what his real name was) was nice enough, too.

**TG: you still work there?**

**CG: IT HASN’T BEEN *THAT* LONG, DAVE.**

You were right. It hadn’t.

 

**TG: theres a bar near roses if youd rather go there instead**

**TG: yknow**

**TG: the one that jade gigs at sometimes**

**CG: I KNOW THE PLACE.**

**CG: IS SEVEN GOOD?**

**TG: seven is perfect**

**TG: see you then, kat**

Yeah, you’re totally freaking out. When the fuck did coffee turn into drinks?

 

You try to ignore the sudden skip of your heart as you re-read your conversation, and you glance at your watch. Six o’clock. You had enough time to scrutinise your outfit and face before you go off to meet up with your impeccably dressed big-shot director ex-boyfriend. This week could not get any fucking better, could it? You eventually decide to wear what you always do: a dark t-shirt and jeans (wow, so adventurous), before grabbing your keys, shouting a brief goodbye to Gamzee, and heading out the door.

 

You walk to the bar, rather than taking the car, because you don’t have gas money to spare, and arrive at five to seven, partially because _you’re nervous as shit_ , but also because you’re a punctual, and considerate person. To your surprise, Dave is already there, and sits on a bar stool with his back to the door you enter through. You feel your heart try to claw itself into your throat, and almost feel a smile spread on your face, until you see _her._

Fuck knows who she is, but whoever she is, she’s draped over Dave like a fire-blanket on an oil fire. A feeling, that you try to deny, bubbles up into your chest, and you unsuccessfully swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not jealous _, you’re not jealous **, you’re not jealous**._ She’s wearing a creased blouse, and an equally creased pencil short pencil skirt. She’s pretty, you unfortunately can’t deny that, and she looks at Dave with half of the admiration in the world. Dave beams when you catch glimpses of him looking at her. You remember when he used to look at you like that. Her hand runs down from his shoulder to his forearm, and he’s grinning like mad, and your stomach is in knots, and your feet are glued to the fucking floor.

 

You know he isn’t yours anymore. You don’t know what you were expecting.

 

Dave says something inaudible, and she snorts out an annoying laugh, before she checks her phone, and gives him an apologetic look. The woman grabs her things, pecks Dave on the cheek, and leaves, brushing past you as she exits.

 

It’s only when Dave swivels his chair round to watch her go that he spots you. You make your way over to him as he stand from his chair, trying to act like you didn’t fucking see whatever happened in front of you just now.  He gives you a little smile, and you give one back, and you try not to feel so out of fucking place when you stare into the pair of reflective black holes he wears in front of his eyes. He sits as you sit beside him, and he orders you a beer, before sipping his own cider.

 

“You’ve never been early in your entire god damn life. Are you sure you didn’t contract some brain-numbing disease whilst you were in LA?”, you ask, nonchalantly.

“Hello to you too, dude”, the blonde takes another sip. You notice the way his jaw moves as he drinks.

“So.”

“So?”

“You’re the director of one of the most anticipated movies of the fucking year.”

He grins like he forgets he’s in public and he covers half of his face with his hand. You even smile a little too.

“Yeah, yeah I am. It’s been a really fucking wild six months, dude. I’ve never been so busy- but in a good way, y’know? So, uh. What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been working the same shitty job since 2013. I’m practically living the high life”, you tell him, being obviously sarcastic, but there’s no venom in your voice. You forgot how easy it was for you to talk to Dave. All the anger you’d harboured for him coming back dissipates into the easiness of your conversation.

“Sounds enthralling.”

“We can’t all be stinking rich, and successful.”

“It has its downsides.”

“Like what?”, you quirk a brow.

“This is my first bit of time off since I left Texas. I’m fucking whacked. I’ve barely left Rose and Kanaya’s house.”

“You’ll only get busier when you go back.”

“Yeah...”, you can tell he’s staring past you, “four days.”

“Four days.”

“I miss being here. Home.”

 

He’s quieter, staring into the bottom of his cup as he moves his glass. You take a sip of the beer you’ve been ignoring for a while now. You know he sure as hell doesn’t mean Rose and Kanaya’s place when he says home. You try not to think over other possibilities.

 

“…You’re coming back to visit again, right?”

“Yeah, dude. I’m back the week after the premier.”

 

You continue to talk, and talk, and talk some more about Dave’s movie, and your job, and he tells you anecdotes about Owen Wilson and him pranking the shit out of Ben Stiller, and how he met Quentin Tarentino, and you tell him about how you almost set Gamzee’s hair on fire. You don’t drink, you just _talk_ , and it’s nice.

 

“No fucking way, the entire bottle?”, he chokes out another laugh.

“I’m not kidding, the whole fucking bottle. In one go, and he just looks at me afterwards like- ‘where’s my ten dollars’, and well, I have to give him the ten fucking dollars, of course. I’ve never seen a man drink so much barbecue sauce in my entire fucking life, dude. It hurt to watch”, you’re grinning more than you have in months, and Dave laughs so hard that he snorts, causing you to laugh some more. “John was sick for _three days_ after, and he had to spend the ten dollars I gave him on cleaning supplies to fucking rub the barbecue puke stain out of his god damn carpet. The kid’s and idiot, Dave.”

“I forgot how much I missed chilling with you guys”, he says, calming down. You missed him hanging with you guys, too. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same waking up alone, either. You look at your watch.

“Shit, Dave, I have to get out of here.”

“Damn. What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty.”

“So much for short catch up, huh? I’ll walk you home.”

 

You don’t argue with him, but just stand up together, and leave. You barely speak the way home. The walk isn’t that long anyway, and the silence is anything but awkward. It’s still just a little difficult to accept the circumstances when he’s so close, yet so far, and it’s only when you reach the front door of Gamzee’s apartment that you’re finally pulled from your thoughts. You pull out your key, and push it into the lock, twisting the door open.

 

“It was good to hang out again.”

“It was.”

“I- I know that we didn’t exactly end on a good note when we broke up, Kat. But I’m glad we could do this.” He looks awkward, even with the shades. You feel awkward.

 

“Me too”, you smile, even though your heart isn’t even finished breaking from when he left since six months ago. Then, just like that, he's gone, You remember when you were younger and Dave would walk you to your dorm room, and it was difficult to keep his lips from yours, even though you’d see him the next day.

 

You could only dream about being that young and stupid, nowadays. You go inside, and head to bed.


	4. since day one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't care what you were to him anymore, as long as you were good, and sure, you had not fucking clue what to say to him whilst you were here, but you at least wanted him in your life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to make nepeta daves agent because of how fucking brilliant davepetasprite is and how well they fit together as one person. i genuinely think theyd get on hella well too

Your name is Dave Strider, and not a day goes past when you don't think about him.

  
  
By the time you actually you actually transferred to Karkat's high school, you were at the lowest you'd ever been. You woke up every morning hurting, both mentally and physically, and it was taking every ounce of energy you had in you to pull yourself out of your bed, and off to school. You wished that you could've just been an average kid, wishing that maybe, just maybe, school was most unenjoyable part of your life, rather than home. But for you, school was the best thing that ever happened. People thought you were cool, because you were simultaneously confident, yet so laid back. And despite what a lot of people thought, you excelled academically. It was easier to throw yourself into your school-work, your music, your comics, than sit there and just wait for the note to slide under the door, demanding that you meet Bro on the roof. So, you did well. You had friends, and were considered gifted and talented by each and every one of your teachers.

  
Ah, yes, Bro Strider, cool guy number one in your little, thirteen year-old eyes. The pinnacle of cool. The absolute cooliest.

  
  
You wished you weren't so naive when you were young.

  
  
Why did it never occur to you that not remembering the last time your brother hugged you, or being scared of your guardian, was not _remotely_ normal? But of course, all of that was normal. The fact that your brother would leave you bleeding from various wounds littering your torso, was normal. The fact that you'd been buying your own food since the age of ten, was normal. The fact that you'd never been on a holiday, family outing, school trip, or celebrated Christmas, was normal. It took you some time to realise that _normal_ was not synonymous with _okay_.

  
  
But the good thing was, you didn't have to realise it on your own. 

  
  
You had Rose, and Roxy, and Dirk, and Sollux, Aradia, Kanaya, Terezi- you had HIM- to talk to. And that made things a little more _okay_ , than _normal_. They were the ones that taught you that it was alright to smile. But he, _he_ was the one that you smiled most around. It was like he was made for you; conveying every emotion that you wouldn't. He smiled with all of his teeth, scrunching up his entire face when he got mad, chewing his lips when he concentrated, narrowing his eyes when he read. You didn't understand how on earth he could hate himself. Karkat Vantas wasn't flawless, but he was perfect- _especially_ to you. He and you becoming best friends was the greatest blessing you could've ever received. He was your everything.

  
  
Karkat was the first person you ever received a Christmas gift from, and when you got it, you stared at it like someone had just handed you the keys to a fucking Bentley. 

  
  
"You moron- are you going to keep staring at it, or are you going to open it?", he'd rolled his eyes at you.  
  
"Why are you giving me this?", he must have seen how obviously perplexed you were, as he snorted a laugh.  
  
"It's _Christmas_."  
  
It was a poster for a video game that you'd been raving about for months, and he seemed just as happy to give it to you as you were to receive it, not caring that you didn't get him anything (ha, like you had any money of your own). Where you couldn't buy him gifts, you made him mix-tapes, and when you finally got a job in the tenth grade, you'd treat the pair of you to pizza as often as you could. It was the least you could do for him, since he practically deserved the world. 

  
  
In the eleventh grade, you started to notice things about him that you never thought you'd notice. Like the way his tongue darted across his lips on hot summer days, or the flat of his stomach you saw when he tried to tug his jumper over his head, the development of his Adam's Apple, the sweep of his hair, the way his legs went on for fucking miles, the stretch of slight lean muscle over his shoulders (and, god, his **_ass_** ). He didn't look as fragile as he did when you first met him, and his hair wasn't three times the size of his head anymore. You were in so much denial at the time that you couldn't figure out why being with JUST girls didn't feel so right. You thought you were gay as hell for a while too, but realised that no, you still liked girls (who doesn't?). 

  
  
Karkat taught you what being bisexual meant in 12th grade, after you explained some of your feelings to him, and after that you felt a little more comfortable with the label- like you could fit your sexuality in a neat little box, and not worry about it anymore. You didn't tell Bro. You didn't think he'd respond anyway. 

  
  
Neither you nor Karkat struggled academically at all, but getting into the same college just made things better. You were just glad to see that he was as happy about this as you were. You felt like at this point, you needed him with you, rather than just wanted him around. At the same time, you sort of felt selfish for needing him with you so much, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

  
  
You don't know what compelled you to kiss him, when you did. You just felt so happy for yourself, so proud of him, so over the moon that you'd both overcome so much and made it so far. You didn't think you'd make it all this way without him, and you're glad that you didn't have to. You appreciated him, and cherished him, and loved him. You _loved_ him. So, _so_ much, and you'd never been happier in your entire life. You were bouncing around, staring at your grades on the paper gripped in your hands, and he's almost crying with happiness. He didn't expect himself to do so well, even though he worked himself to death over the course of the year. He deserved to do that well. In the spur of the moment, you grabbed his hand and twirled him, your heart swelling as you see the laugh falling from his lips. You tugged him close, and the second your eyes met, time slowed around you both. Nausea filled you to the brim, and your heart beat almost erratically in your chest. Your grades were momentarily forgotten, and you leaned in, a smile still lingering on your lips as you pressed them to his.

  
  
And then you realised you fucked up.

  
  
You kissed him, and your eyes go wide as you pulled away from him, because oh god, you fucked up _four perfectly good years of friendship_ \- you ruined it like you ruin everything- and he's going to hate you like _Bro_ hates you- and fuck- FUCK-

  
  
You're pulled from your train of thought as Karkat steps towards you again, cupping both of your cheeks, and pulling your lips to his once more. There's so many things running through your head, but you decide that kissing back was a good way to start at the time. Your arms snaked around him, holding him close to you as his hands slid from your cheeks, to your hair. You're light-headed when you pull away, and his face is red.

  
  
You asked him if he wanted to grab dinner with you that night, and he said yes.

  
  
You remember the first time you slept together, because it was so funny. You'd only had sex with girls so far, and so had no idea what you were doing when it came to anything _not_ -vagina. Karkat hadn't had sex at all, and was nervous doing just about anything with you previous to that. After breaking the tension with a fourteen second burp (god damn you, Domino’s pizza), things were a little easier that night. The pair of you wake up naked as new-borns, and extremely satisfied. Well. Almost. Karkat wasn't too over the moon with the amount of hickeys you left on him. You silenced his complaints by kissing that place under his jaw that made him shiver.

  
  
By the time your forth year together was coming to a close, you came to the not so shocking conclusion that Karkat Vantas was the only person you could picture yourself loving, and the only person you could see yourself with for the rest of your life. So, you saved up. For months and months, without Karkat knowing, keeping a roll of notes in your pillowcase, and adding to it whenever you could. When you had raised what you thought was enough, you went out, and bought an engagement ring.

  
  
It was a simple, silver band, engraved on the inside with the words 'only you'. This of course had been Rose's suggestion, after all you could think of putting in there were the words 'want some fuck' (with 'fuck' spelled incorrectly), and that wasn't really as romantic as you were aiming for. You hid the ring box in the same place you hid the money, and waited for him to come back from work on the evening of your fifth anniversary.

  
  
Karkat got hit with a late night shift that night, and you went to bed.

  
  
Nothing had been the same since then. The arguing was the worst, as you remember, even though you knew that Karkat only shouted because he was tired. You wished you could have afforded to let him just stay in bed for as long as he needed too, but you weren't in that financial position. You had bills to pay. You became more aloof because you had no clue how to make things better for him, and knowing that you couldn't, made you feel all the worse. Because you knew he deserved more than this. But you couldn't cope, because you're a socially inept problem-child. You wore your shades more, held your tongue more, pretended that you couldn't hear him crying in the bathroom, because it was easier that way.

  
  
Yes, it was you who suggested the break. You only did so because you knew that neither of you could carry on like this if you tried, and you didn't want to resent each other for things that were out of your control.

  
  
Oh, how you regret shouting back. You should have just held him, and let him cry, taken off your shades, and rubbed his back. But you didn't- you shouted, and argued, and made things _so much_ worse. Looking back on it, you can't even remember what you argued so fiercely about. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. 

  
  
The three weeks after he moved out were the worst, because you still lived in that apartment. His smell was still in the couches, and he left his shampoo behind by accident, and the key for the door still had that stupid little crab on it. Everything was still so _him_ , like some higher being wanted to make you feel worse for letting him slip through your fingers.

  
  
Rose came round every day since you told her about the break up, helping you with the rent where she could and cooking for you, because she knew that you forgot to eat a lot these days. She was there when you first got the email. Now, at first, you thought it was a hoax, not understanding how anyone on the god damn planet would ever want your shitty-ass comics on the silver screen, but the more you emailed back and forth with your contact, the more things came together. Within a week's time, your agent (holy shit?? an _agent_!) had already booked your flight, and gotten you a fancy hotel to stay at in LA whilst things were being finalised. The apartment was put up for sale the same day.

  
  
Rose, Roxy and Dirk all helped you move out, and were the ones who set up the farewell party for you. You tried to talk to Karkat when you spotted him, but you knew he was avoiding you. You didn't blame him. Rose, Roxy and Dirk saw you off at the airport too, and it was quite an emotional goodbye, if anything. You didn't think you'd seen Rose cry since high school. You don't cry much as you say goodbye, but you do on the flight there, and you cry as you reach your hotel room.

  
  
As you rolled Karkat’s engagement ring between your finger and thumb, you only just realised that you knew no-one here.

  
  
If it weren't for all the work you'd been saddled with, you would've watched at least twice the amount of sad movies than you actually did. You kept expecting to wake up with Karkat in your arms, and Rose texting you to meet up for coffee. You didn't just miss _him_ , you missed home. You were kept occupied with meetings, and writing, and more meetings, and then editing your shitty writing, and then meeting some more. You met the people who helped you produce the movie, and then you met Stiller and Wilson, which was an entirely different experience. You could hardly comprehend how you got this far in the first place, especially without Karkat.

  
  
There were many times where you actually wanted to give up, when filming time ran over, and you had to make last minute changes to the script, and when you had too little sleep, but then you think about Karkat, and what he'd say to you if you were still together.

  
  
**_It kept you going._**

  
  
When you finished the movie, a shocking six months later (it's an abomination, you love it), you realised how soon the release date was. You hopped on a plane back to Texas the day after you finished production. This time, fucking Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson see you off at the airport, and your agent comes with you.

  
  
Your agent is a pretty, bubbly woman by the name of Nepeta, who's a sucker for shitty jokes; which is good, considering you can't stop telling them. The pair of you had grown pretty close over the past six months, and you even got around to telling her a little bit about Karkat. When you touch down in Texas, you headed to Rose's, and she headed to a hotel not far from the airport. She says she has family to catch up with around here anyway.

  
  
The first time you saw Karkat again, it was almost surreal, and you're thankful for the shades more than anything. You wonder how he's been doing since you left, and selfishly hope that he missed you. You don't know how on earth you built up the courage to text him that night, but you did, and you're glad of it. You tell Nepeta, in passing, and she's happy for you. You didn't even know what you wanted out of seeing him, and you still don't, but the least you want is for him to not resent you for what went down with the pair of you. 

 

“When are you supposed to be meeting him?”

“Five minutes.”

 

She squealed and squeezed your shoulder. What emotion you didn’t express, she expressed for you. Her smile is contagious, and you beamed at her easily.

 

“I know you’re going to tell me something like ‘knock ‘em dead’, but the last thing I need is to murder my ex-boyfriend, Nep.”

 

She did that shrill little laugh of hers that made you laugh a little yourself, before checking her phone, making her excuses, and bouncing off to the exit. Your smile followed her out of the room, where you saw Karkat entering. For the second time that week, the air was practically knocked out of your lungs. You never thought he’d willingly talk to you again, but there he was, in all of his glory.

 

That night reminded you of how easy it was to talk to him, and how safe he made you feel.

 

When you reach Rose’s afterwards you immediately crash onto her couch, twisting your ex-boyfriends fucking engagement ring around your middle finger. You didn’t care what you were to him anymore, as long as you were good, and sure, you had not fucking clue what to say to him whilst you were here, but you at least wanted him in your life again.

 

After all, you still love him, don’t you?

 

**_It’s going to be a long, long week._ **


	5. three: all over again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, he shoots you a text asking you out (not like. asks you out. more like. asks you OUT. not like, out out- more just a totally platonic friend-date with good intentions and- not a DATE- oh my god, is your face red?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im had loads of shit happen recently and im kind of in a bad place  
> sorry it took so long

His fingers drag down your sides, the tips of his digits pressing firmly, but not harshly, into your hips in a desperate plea to get you to stay. And how could you refuse? How could you refuse that mess of hair, those beautiful eyes, the curve of those lips that you fell in love with so long ago, when he’s giving himself to you? You don’t even have to tilt his head up before his lips mould to yours, and they’re pliable and warm and everything like you remember. You don’t know how you do, but you manage to shoosh him as you kiss him, your tan hands sliding into his hair, before slipping to hold the back of his neck.

 

You want him close. You always have, you don’t know why you fucking denied it all this time, when you could have kept him from the start. As your lips roll faster, harder, against his, you feel Karkat relax against you, breathing out slowly through his nose, and you’re losing yourself in him all over again. Your brain swims in a pool of sickly sweet honey, and the lump in your throat doesn’t dissipate, even as you swallow his tongue into your mouth. His taste hasn’t changed, and you thank every god that you can think of that it hasn’t. You’re not sure, but you think he’s crying, or was crying, or will cry, and god, you want him. One hand stays on the back of Karkat’s neck, tips of your fingers in his hair as your other hand moves to pull him impossibly closer from the small of his back, and you can feel hot blood thrumming through your palms as you hold him. He’s humming into your mouth, and the vibrations rattle your soul to the core, his heartbeat filling your ears. He’s devouring you, his hands grabbing and squeezing harshly at your sides, and you don’t think you’d even care if he ate you whole, because all you can think is ‘ _more_ ’; _more_ of the boy who makes you feel whole again. _More_ of your best friend. **_More_** of the man who’s been putting you back together, piece by piece, ever since you started falling apart.

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re still hopelessly in love with the guy whose heart you broke six months ago. Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re fighting a losing battle to get over him. Your name is Dave Strider, and-

 

You just woke up.

 

God _fucking damn it_ , shit. Jesus Christ, are you stupid? Of course it was a fucking dream. Heaving a totally not-dramatic sigh, you shift to sit up straight on your temporary bed, one hand in your hair as you stare at the boner sitting in your boxers. You wish you could say that this was the first dream you’ve had about making out with Karkat that’s left you with morning wood, but of course, you’d be a fucking liar.

 

You decide to ‘handle’ (haha, get it, _hand_ le?) yourself in the shower, and try to think about anything but his ass whilst you do so, and you fail miserably. After you’re done, your lazily dress yourself, not even thinking as you slide Karkat’s ring onto your finger, your shades onto your face, and head out the door.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Tension practically seeps from you over the course of the next two days, and you find it very easy to fall into a routine with Dave again.

 

The day after you met up with each other at the bar, you do an extraordinary amount of texting, one single conversation starter leading you to speak on and off throughout the day. You text him on your breaks and sneak looks at your phone even when you are working, and try to ignore the little flutter in your chest that you feel when you get notifications of his messages. You wonder if he still thinks about you sometimes, and the quickly shake the thought from you head. You didn't need those thoughts plaguing you.

 

Eventually, he shoots you a text asking you out (not like. asks you out. more like. asks you OUT. not like, _out_ out- more just a totally platonic friend-date with good intentions and- not a DATE- oh my god, is your face _red_?) for coffee the next afternoon, knowing that you finish early on Wednesday's, and your gut flips. Jesus, what was this- some weird bishonen anime? Karkat Vantas stars as the tsundere princess, and Dave Strider is his beanpole-legged, sparkly-eyed douchebag love interest. Fucking brilliant. Alarm bells go off in your head, because you know being around him so much is just going to make things so much harder for you when he goes back to LA. The last thing you need is to be shoved back to square one because of your own stupid mistakes. But- it’s hard. Hard to say no to this, because it’s what you were used to for over a decade. It’s not fair that you feel like this, when he’s clearly moved on. You refuse to let yourself get _this_ worked up about shit that you used to do as friends beforehand anyway. You weren't so much doing anything as stupid as falling in love again (insert over-dramatic blinking here, lmao), but just remembering the little things that you learned to forget over the past six months. Like the face he made when attempting not to smile at shitty puns, or the way he swears under his breath after doing something stupid, and the way his eyes smile when he smiles.

 

You maybe think regret leaving him a little, all that time ago. Because you still miss him, of course you do. But, you're done with crying, you know it's too late to be part of his life like that again. You're just glad he still wants to know you after how shitty you were when you were still together. Maybe if you had just been a little bit more patient-

 

No, no, you're not giving yourself a list of what-ifs like last time. That's what got you into your spiral of shitty Hugh Grant movies and ice-cream overdose in the first place. You don't think your gut could handle a second round of that. Pulling yourself out of your frankly saddening train of thought, you check the time, and realise that you're at least five minutes late for your date-not-date with Dave. You grab your keys on the way out, and shout a quick goodbye to Gamzee (who is sprawled out on the floor) before heading off. It's only a short walk between you and the coffee shop you had arranged to meet you at the day before. As you enter, the first thing you notice, is how he's dressed.

 

It isn't anything _extraordinary_ , but you supposed that's why is catches you off guard. You're so used to seeing him all dressed up nowadays that it's hard to think that you haven't rewound back to 2013, when you see Dave sitting there in a hoodie and jeans. The blonde looks up at you from his phone and smiles almost unnoticeably. The feeling from earlier creeps up in your stomach again.

 

You give him a wave in return, and head to the counter to grab a drink. Contrary to popular belief, you don't drink your coffee black like every blithering buffoon you know assumes you do (see: every 2011 humanstuck Karkat headcanon ever), but instead, you, drink it with as much sugar and milk as your taste buds will allow, before sitting before him with a huff. He apparently doesn’t care that you’re late.

 

“I’m frankly surprised to see you in anything but a tailored Armani suit.”

 

“I think you’re just sad because you can’t see my ass in designer material right now”, he counters, one corner of his mouth ever so slightly upturned. If he said that a year ago, it would’ve been accompanied with a wink. You roll your eyes.

 

“Yup. I’m practically in tatters. Have your agent organise a funeral for me, please”, you take a sip of your drink, and instantly regret your decision, as it scalds your tongue. You pull a face.

 

“Dude, no, you do not want that. She’d just make puns about your name, and then laugh until she died or something. The chick has like six cats.”

 

“Shit, seriously?”

 

“Yeah, she and her sister go nuts for them.”

 

“Wow. She sounds like a person I don’t want anything to do with.”

 

“Nah, Nepeta’s great. You might have bumped into her, maybe? She left the bar just as you came in the other night.”

 

“That was your agent?”, you ask, rather stupidly, and relief pours through your chest. You don’t know why it would’ve mattered if she was his girlfriend in the first place. You’re not even together anymore.

 

“Yeah, man. She’s been fucking amazing to me since I touched down in LA. Pretty sure she could kill a man if she tried, too.”

 

“Okay, she sounds alright.”

 

“I think you’d get along. Shit knows what I’d do without her.” Even from behind his sunglasses, you can tell that Dave isn’t looking at you, but rather staring off behind you, probably. He’s distracted by his thoughts as his fingers fiddle with the ring on his ring finger.

 

Wait, what?

 

His ring finger. Dave’s wearing a ring. On his ring finger. On his left hand. You think your heart collapses in your chest, the wind knocked out of your lungs like someone’s punched you in the gut. You try to remain composed. _He’s not yours anymore._ Your voice struggles out of your throat, and your hands would probably be shaking like fuck if it weren’t for the fact that your palms are flat against the surface in front of you.

 

“You seem. _Close_.” The sudden change in your tone of voice makes him focus on you again, and your heart throbs painfully behind your ribcage, like it did the night he caught the plane to LA.

 

“We are”, he responds, the eyebrows sitting atop his shades furrowing slightly in confusion.

 

“When’s the wedding?”

 

“Huh?”

 

You gesture towards the ring that he’s been absent mindedly twirling around his finger for the past minute or so.

 

“Oh”, his voice deadpans, hands freezing, “oh, _fuck_.”


End file.
